5. Stig
Five
Stig
I knew this deal was crazy before I offered it, but still, seeing Jana reel back with shock makes laughter bubble up my throat. She shakes her head back and forth, one forgotten tomato clutched in her hand as she backs up toward the center of the cabin.
“A wife? A wife? You’re insane.”
Yeah—guilty as charged. This is an insane proposition, just like it’s insane to climb mountains that reach so high the human body can’t withstand the thin air for more than a short window of time, or to canoe down crocodile-infested rivers and camp on lion-ruled plains.
But I’ve chased adventure for my whole life—chased this feeling , this giddy high that comes from leaping out of an airplane or pushing myself past human limits.
There’s no feeling like it. And the exact same sensation flooded my body when I flicked that lamp on and found Jana Kumara in my bed, the rush of adrenaline stronger than ever before.
My gut tells me: this is my next adventure. She’s my next adventure, and you’d better believe I’m buckling in. Listening to my gut has kept me alive all these years, saved my bacon in so many dangerous situations, and you’d better believe I’m not gonna stop now.
So, call the cops? I’d rather sleep in the trees and sign over my cabin to this woman right this second. I’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant she’d stay.
But why settle for living close by if there’s something better on the table? If I can aim for a higher mountain peak? If we could stay here together ?
No, I don’t need a wife. I’ve survived this long without one just fine.
But sometimes you’ve gotta make the big bet. That’s what life is all about, right? Swinging for the bleachers.
“People do it.” Nudging the refrigerator door closed, I stroll forward a few steps. Jana’s still shaking her head at me, wide-eyed with shock, her body swamped by pale blue button-down pajamas. So fucking cute. What I’d give to unwrap her like a homecoming gift… but I’m getting ahead of myself. “Strangers get married for green cards and inheritances and shit like that all the time.”
My squatter fiddles with the tomato as she stares at me, turning it over and over in her hands. And Christ, she looks good with her short, black hair all rucked up and messy from sleep. Want to ruffle that spiky bedhead with my palm, then kiss down her elegant neck until she squirms.
“So you need a wedding on paper.” She wets her lips and speaks slowly. “Like—like a marriage of convenience. A fake arrangement.”
I shrug, fighting another grin. “Sure.”
That’s step one of this master plan, anyway.
And I’m not fending off laughter because this is all a joke for me or anything—I’m serious. Dead serious. My whole body is tensed up as I wait for Jana’s answer, muscles clenched and gut aching with fierce hope, but I’ve always responded to high-pressure situations with humor; always cracked jokes to let off steam.
I want this. Even though I only met this woman a few scant moments ago, I want this so fucking badly. Every cell in my body screams out for it, like I’d be working against the mysterious forces of fate to walk away now.
I want Jana Kumara in my cabin.
Jana Kumara in my bed.
My ring on Jana Kumara’s finger.
Yeah. Fuck. I’ll do anything.
Jana huffs and strides past me to the kitchen again, the tomato gripped firmly in one hand like she means business. “You’re exhausted, Stig Hansen. Dehydrated too, and your blood sugar is probably low. You need to eat something and rest. You’ll regret all this crazy talk in the morning.”
Pans clatter and cupboards thump as the woman I only just met—and instantly proposed to—sets about making me an omelet. Her shoulders are bunched up around her ears, and when I prop myself against the counter next to her, Jana shoots me a wary look.
Not like she’s scared of me . Like she’s scared of my proposal; scared that she might actually be tempted. Honey-brown eyes dart along my body from head to toe before whipping away, and her hands tremble as she cracks an egg. A dark flush spreads over her cheekbones.
My fingers drum against the counter, and I fish for the right words to sway her.
“You like this cabin, don’t you?”
Jana rolls her eyes, beating the eggs together in a bowl. Her body shifts under her pajama shirt as she works, and fuck, my mouth goes dry.
Can’t look away from her. Can’t get enough. If I’d known Jana Kumara was in Starlight Ridge this whole time, I never would’ve gone away.
“Real estate is not a good reason to marry someone,” she says now, like she’s reminding herself. Tomatoes sizzle in the pan, softening up and releasing their juices, and my stomach clenches on nothing, growling loud enough to rattle the cabin walls.
“What is a good reason?” I ask.
Jana snorts, pouring the eggs into the pan. A loud hiss fills the air. “Love, you maniac.”
“Well, we’ll build up to that.”
That blush darkens, but the look Jana gives me is pure scorn. Adrenaline spikes in my veins, and god, I could hike another twenty miles after meeting this woman.
This is what I’ve been missing my whole life. This is the sensation I’ve been chasing for so long, searching every nook and cranny of the wilderness.
Pure, unadulterated thrill.
“It’s just on paper,” I remind her. For now. “And you get to live in the cabin, plus half my assets and all that other marriage stuff.”
“I don’t want your assets —wait, where will you live?”
I nod at the curtain-covered windows. “Out there. Though if you let me in to shower sometimes, I’d be grateful. So would anyone who brushes past me in the grocery store.”
The wooden spatula clatters against the counter, and Jana covers her face with a groan. In the pan, the omelet sizzles, and I pick up the spatula and prod at the edges.I was already hungrier than a bear waking up from hibernation, and you’d better believe I’m gonna eat this meal made for me by my future wife. Gonna eat every bite then lick the plate.
“Blood sugar,” Jana announces, dropping her hands and snatching the spatula back. “This is a blood sugar thing. You’ll eat, you’ll sleep, and you’ll regret this offer in the morning.”
…That’s not a no.
Jana slides the omelet onto a plate, grabs a fork, and thrusts the whole thing at my chest. I take it, inhaling deeply before cutting out the first bite with the edge of my fork. Already, the is the best meal I’ve ever had.
“And if I don’t regret it?” I blow on the piping hot chunk of omelet, watching my squatter closely. There’s this tingly feeling I get sometimes when I’m close to victory—when the mountain peak is in sight or I’ve just successfully scared off a predator—and I’m getting those tingles now. “If I still want to make this deal in the morning. What then, Jana Kumara?”
Her lips press together. She clutches the edge of the counter, like she’s hanging on for balance, and she addresses the wall in front of her.
“Then… shit. I’ll think about it.”
I punch the air.